


Don't let me go (don't make me leave you)

by robinlikeitshot



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Whump, Gen, Whump, ambiguous ending, does he die?thats up to u!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot
Summary: "Does it hurt?""Dickie, please," he begs. "Come on."He doesn't respond, glazed over eyes making Jason wonder if he'd even heard him at all. "I think it might be nice," he murmurs, fingers stilling in their exploration of Jason's face. "To see my parents again."No."Di-""I'll miss you, Little Wing."
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 24
Kudos: 243
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	Don't let me go (don't make me leave you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlannaofRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaofRoses/gifts).



> jason's perspective was a bit hard for me to write for this, but i hope i did it justice!  
> and a big ol thank to dumble-daddy over on tumblr for helping beta this one~  
> Enjoy:)

It’s one am when Jason gets the call. He almost doesn’t pick it up, the last fight he and Bruce had had still leaving a bad taste in his mouth. When his comm begins beeping for a second time, though, Jason picks up.

He’s relieved he does, because Dick’s rough panting on the other end immediately has him shooting to his feet, the cigarette he was just about to light falling from his fingers and over the side of the roof he was staking out as he reaches for his grapple.

“Hey, ‘Wing, gonna need you to tell me your location. Think you can do that?” Jason asks urgently, wishing that he had access to the emergency trackers that he knew Bruce put in the Bats’ suits(never his, no matter the bright symbol painted in red on his chest, he knew Bruce would never consider him one of his own again)-

He’s broken out of his spiral at the sound of his name being gasped through the line. “Jason… that you?” Dick’s voice is slurred, his usual cheery intonation tinged with the sting of pain, but it’s the name-drop that really startles him- all Bats are paranoid about their identities, and none of them would risk them even over channels that had been encrypted by the Oracle herself. So Dick saying his name… 

"Yeah, yeah it's me, N," he replies, launching his grapple to swing down to his bike. He needs to keep him talking.

"Oh," Dick breaths shakily over the line, a faint squeak of static cutting through his voice. "It's," Dick sighs, the sound trembling over the frequency. "It's nice to hear from you, Jay. Mm, been a while." The words seem to set off a convulsion in the man, and Jason's throat almost seizes up at the sound of wet coughs.

"N?" No answer. "Dick!" The questioning hum on the other side is too pained for him to be relieved, and he quickly asks, "Your location, Dick!"

"'m near that, that tea place Dami likes," Dick mumbles, voice slightly muffled. "The one with the little, the little cat cups?"

Jason immediately guns his bike, skidding his wheels on the turn out of the alley, thanking Diana for that night Tim had broken his arm and had spent the whole night messing around on his coms, eventually wearing the elder down with his non-stop chatter. He'd only mentioned the place in a flyaway comment, but Jason remembered enough to be able to generalize Dick's location. 

"Hold on, Dickie," he grits out, maneuvering around honking cars as he runs another light. "I'll be there in a few," _he hopes_ , "Hold on, okay? Promise me!" Shakes his head a bit, to throw off the memories from when their roles were reversed, tamping down the bitterness that Dick doesn't need right now.

Dick's quiet for a second, the only sound coming from the com being his soft pants. Right when Jason's about to shout at him again, he answers. "I promise, Ja _y_ -" 

He cuts himself off with a scream that serves to curdle Jason's blood. "Dickie!" 

There's no reply, not even the man's heavy breathes. Jason curses, switching gears, and pushes his bike even faster. _Just a few minutes..._

___xx___

Fearing the worst, Jason pushes open the window of the warehouse from which Dick's heat signature was emanating. 

The first thing that registers is the blood. There's a lot of it, painting the walls and the body slumped up against the door. Tugging off his hood and gloves frantically, Jason presses two fingers against the man's pulse, almost sighing in relief when he felt the soft thump of the weak, but still _there_ heartbeat. 

Dick's eyes flutter for a second, before widening, his pupils blown. A strangled breath wrenches its way out of him, and Jason has to physically hold him down when he starts thrashing.

"Dick, c'mon, snap out of it!" Jason yells, knowing that if there weren't at least three places where the other was bleeding out from he'd already be on the floor.

At his words, unfiltered by the helmet, Dick stills, blue eyes focusing slightly. "Oh, it's, it's you." 

Jason doesn't know if the tone in his voice is disappointment, but he pushes it aside in favor of trying to make sure the vigilante doesn't _die_ on him. "Yeah, N. It's me. Think you can stand up?"

Dick's legs twitch. Jason takes that as a no. Carefully sliding his arms around his predecessor, he lifts him up, wincing at the other’s pained grunts. “I have a safe house near Newtown, shouldn’t take more than five minutes to get there. Think you can hold out, N?”

The vigilante doesn’t answer, doesn’t respond in any way other than lolling his head on the shoulder of Jason’s jacket as he swings them down to the street, the only thing indicating that he’s not carrying a literal dead weight. Damn it, if only he could see his eyes, but they’re hidden away behind the man’s domino.

Trying to get Dick on his bike like this would take too much time, and he’s already losing too much blood, so with a few expletives, Jason manages to hotwire a beat-up looking Corolla that’s seen better days. Quickly arranging the man inside, he immediately starts up the car, cursing when it gives a faint sputtering sound. After a few go’s, it starts up, and Jason immediately kicks up the gear, swerving around the few cars that frequented Gotham at two am. 

When he hits a pothole, Dick groans next to him, likely jostled by the jerk of the vehicle. As shitty as it is, Jason’s thankful for it, knowing he’s still breathing and hopefully conscious. Picking up the communicator Babs had given him a few weeks ago, one that he’d never turned on but had constantly kept with him after making sure its tracking beacon was off, he allows himself just one moment of doubt before pressing on it.

“This is Red Hood. Oracle, come in.” There was no response. Gritting his teeth, Jason switched frequencies, hitting the main channel. “This is Red Hood. Is anyone on?” No reply. Hell, this must’ve been the reason Dickie had called him, of all people, instead of Batman or Red or literally anyone other than the family black sheep.

Swallowing his pride, Jason switches to the line that Bruce had given to him after their last make-up(well _that_ hadn’t lasted long). He can only hope the other still uses it, as he tentatively calls out, “Batman, this- this is Hood. I’ve got N with me, he, he’s lost a lot of blood. B, I’m,” a swallow, “I’m going to need your help. I’m on 34th Milton, so when you get this message,” he has half a mind to beg, to plead, because out of all of them, he can’t have Dick’s blood on their hands, so he thumbs the comm off before his mouth betrays him.

Skidding to a stop outside of his nearest safehouse, his mind whirrs with the inventory of his current available medical equipment(and he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough, for the man currently bleeding out in the seat next to him, for the brother who’s _been bleeding_ out for who knows how long). Hefting Dick up as fast as he can while still trying to be careful, he grapples them up to his window, not wanting to risk any late-night tenants seeing Nightwing half-dead.

The locks give underneath his gloves in a few seconds, and then he’s all speed, getting Dick situated on the kitchen table for lack of any other place, scrubbing the adhesive off his domino, getting the emergency IV and blood bags set up. Dick fades in and out of consciousness throughout the whole thing, not even wincing at the catches on his suit being released, nor the slide of needles beneath his skin. 

It’s when he’s wiping away the blood on the man’s face, dragging it through his matted hair that’s a worrisome shade of red, that Dick finally speaks.

"When you died..." The question shoots a bolt of ice through Jason's voice, and if it was anyone else, anyplace else, he would have already pummeled them to the ground for asking. As it is, Jason's fingers itch for the comforting weight of his revolvers as Dick continues to mumble.

"Was it nice? Or did you miss us too much?" he rambles deliriously.

"No..., no Dickie, it-' Jason drags a hand over his face. He'd done everything he could, hell, he'd even sent an emergency signal to _Bruce_. There was nothing else to do but wait for Batman to come save his Robin. "Don't talk like that." He tries to believe he isn't talking to himself when he says, "You'll be fine, I swear."

Dick swings his hand up, and Jason doesn't even get the time to flinch before it's gently stroking his cheek. He's only slightly aware of the blood(Dick's _blood_ ) being rubbed into his skin as the man breathes, "Jaybird." Jason grips his wrist, trying to stem the panic, the fear as he asks, "Does it hurt?"

"Dickie, please," he begs. "Come on."

He doesn't respond, glazed over eyes making Jason wonder if he'd even heard him at all. "I think it might be nice," he murmurs, fingers stilling in their exploration of Jason's face. "To see my parents again." _No_.

"Di-"

"I'll miss you, Little Wing" The words are a barely there whisper.

Dick's eyes drifted close, hiding away their crystal blues. His heart rate stuttered, weakening, _fading_ -

For the first time in his life since his death, Jason holds onto his older brother, and he hopes the Bat would make it in time.


End file.
